


Sweet Music Playing in the Dark

by drdill



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gio's pov, M/M, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drdill/pseuds/drdill
Summary: Gio's weekend gets a bit more interesting when he finds out someone new is staying next door while Kevin is out of town.





	1. Fire Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A venture on the fire escape is interrupted when Gio falls and startles his temporary neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I couldn't leave you guys for too long. This will be pretty short chapter-wise, but it's an idea I've had in my head for a couple of months. I hope you like it!

_I hate elevators._

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

_Single._

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It's a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. _How riveting._ The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-  
_Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator._

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me. 

That’s...Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”  
Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.  
“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.  
His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”  
“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”  
“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.” 

Ah, so _that’s_ Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit...taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”  
I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you on Monday?”  
“You bet! Love you girl!”  
“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. _Do I go over and say hi?_ That’s way too forward. _Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here?_ Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself...tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.  
\----

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6 pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on-beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. _Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep._

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

_“Relight my fire,_  
Your love is my only desire,  
Relight my fire,  
Cause I nee-” 

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by a sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. _Shit._ I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. _Great._  
“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.  
“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.  
“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”  
“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.  
“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles. 

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.  
He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.  
“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.  
“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.  
“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.  
“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”  
“You’re a writer?”  
“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”  
“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.  
“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”  
“Red or white?”  
“White.”  
“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.  
“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”  
I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”  
“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”  
“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”  
“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”  
“That he and the editor were close?”  
“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.  
“Wait, what?”  
“Ice?”  
“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”  
“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” _What a charmer_. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.  
“Thank you.”  
He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and variously sized band-aids.  
“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.  
“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.  
“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.  
“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up.  
“I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.  
Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

_DIIIIIIIIING_

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.  
“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.  
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

\----

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.  
“I guess I’ll see you around?”  
“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

_Having this one close to home will be dangerous._


	2. Lip and Cheek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gio interrogates Kevin about Max to see if they could work out when he finally moves to New York, and it seems the odds are in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest thing i've written for this hellsite so i hope it was worth it! the mini fic was clearly inspired by Hozier's Almost (Sweet Music), of which i was obsessed with when i wrote the first chapter a while ago, but i relied heavily on Surface Tension by Tomos for this one. i wanted something domestic about music bringing two people together in an unconventional way, with typical pining and affection (and my first attempt at ACTUAL smut) controlling everything in the end.
> 
> i'm sure i've said it enough, but thanks for your patience with my indecisiveness and long periods without writing. i hope once this semester ends i can be more active!

_“Come on, it’s totally Bill.”_

Max stuffs another piece of sushi in his mouth, watching _Mamma Mia!_ intensely on the television, knees to his chest on my couch.  
“I don’t disagree, I’m just saying this all could’ve been avoided with a paternity test.”  
“Don’t try to get technical with this masterpiece.”  
“Fair enough,” I giggle. “I wouldn’t be mad if Sam proposed to me, though.”  
“Well, obviously. He could get it any day of the week.” I choke on my water.

Earlier in the day, he knocked on my door, my sandals between his fingers and a smirk on his lips. Probably thinking my life is a mess, he asked me about my swollen knee and it turned into an hour of us drinking coffee at my kitchen table. Wanting to repay him for his hospitality the night prior, I suggested sushi and a cheesy film in sweats. From my obnoxiously loud ABBA jam-session in the morning that left “Dancing Queen” in his head for the rest of the day, he chose appropriately.

The final scene ends to the Netflix home screen and I start picking-up empty soy sauce packets.  
“Sorry for getting wasabi on your couch,” Max says, standing up to help clean.  
“Don’t worry about it. There’s been worse things on it,” I tell him with a wink, immediately ready to punch myself in the face. _Why the fuck do I open my mouth?_ He just laughs and shakes his head.  
“I’m not even gonna ask.”  
We head back to the couch, sitting opposite, staring anywhere but directly at each other. He’s stretched out towards me while I sit cross-legged and hands in my lap. Seconds pass and we’re waiting for the other to initiate some form of conversation, resorting to him making a fun beat with his hands on the side of the couch and this thigh, and me bobbing my head and shimmying my shoulders. A laugh escapes me.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks me.  
“I don’t know,” I say, fully honest. “Most weekends where I do nothing aren’t this fun.”  
It feels like a first date- painfully hesitant. For the twenty-seven hours I’ve known him, he’s surely made an impact. Maybe I’m just desperate for the attention he’s giving, and maybe the feeling is mutual, but I’d rather be entangled in blind affection than ignorant to it.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting to make a friend during my quick stay,” he tells me, “but I’m so glad you fell on that fire escape.” He chuckles when I roll my eyes and observe the bandages wrapped around my bruised knee.  
“As embarrassing as that was, I guess the garlic bread was worth it,” I smile. He shifts positions and crosses his legs like me, moving close enough for our knees to touch.  
“Since we’re sharing thoughts,” he says, “something’s been eating at me.”  
“And what is that?”  
He sighs. “Last night, when you said goodbye, we shared a quick hug and you were gone.”  
My lips are between my teeth, unsure which direction this could turn.  
“When just hours before, you wanted to kiss me like it was nothing.”  
Relief quenches me like a cool glass of water.  
“Well,” I reply, leaning a bit closer, “I can tell you that it wasn’t nothing.”  
“You don’t say?” His draws circles on my kneecap through my black joggers. I nod in response when he greets my eyes, leering.

Like muscle memory, we find ourselves in the same position as last night. This time, the puzzle pieces fit together, completing what could’ve been my evening departure. His lips are even softer than they look, sweet and tangy like the lemonade he sipped during the movie. I smell his aftershave on my next inhale before deepening our kiss, bunching his shirt in my hands and pushing him onto his back. Propped on my elbows, I drag my tongue over his bottom lip and reconnect to his mouth, full of paradise. He leisurely travels down my spine to my lower back. For the time being, it’s a musical rapture.

_Then there’s an abrupt knock at my door._

It was maybe fifteen seconds. _Fifteen seconds._ I’m fuming, nostrils flared and eyes slowly shutting.  
“The universe really doesn’t want this, huh?” he says with a sympathetic grin. I peck his lips before standing and unlocking the door.

Kevin greets me with a huge smile- _of all the people to ruin our moment._  
“Hi, honey.”  
“Someone’s back early,” I say, moderately bothered.  
“I really didn’t want to bother you, but I must’ve left my key at my sister’s and Max wasn’t answering his phone. Could I use your spare?”  
“Hi, Kevin.” Max pokes his head from the couch.  
“Maxie!! Y’all already met!?” He’s elated at the sight of his friend, which quickly turns to sheer panic. “Oh shit. Did I jus-”  
“No, it’s fine. We were just hanging out. Being neighborly and all,” I say before Max can speak, unenthusiastic jazz hands to follow. Max’s face drops and nods.  
“Yeah, I can let you back in. It’s pretty late anyway,” Max tells Kevin, hopping off the couch and standing next to me.  
“Thanks for the sushi, Gio.” He goes for an awkward hug, an even worse ending than last night.  
“Anytime.”  
Kevin watches us stiffly before giving me a hug.  
“You up for brunch tomorrow?” he asks me. I hide my irritation with a cheeky smile.  
“Duh! Max will you still be around?” I must’ve caught him off-guard.  
“Hm? Oh, yeah! Yeah I can come.” He’s flustered.  
“Wonderful. See you guys tomorrow?”  
“I’ll knock when we’re ready!” Kevin replies. He leads the way out of my apartment with Max.  
“Bye-bye.” I shut the door and reflect. _Of all the people to ruin our moment._ I love Kevin. Typically he annoys me with bombarding my phone with texts, but this time, nothing- the one time I don’t get minute-by-minute updates on his train ride home. I throw myself on the empty bed, frustrated and lonely.

\----

_*knock knock knock*_

I grab my wallet and head for the door in white converse, rolled black shorts, and matching black tank top. In the hallway, Kevin’s alone wearing a coral v-neck with khaki shorts and flip flops.  
“Where’s Max?” I ask.  
“Bathroom. He should be out in a sec.” He looks down at my legs.  
“What happened to your knee?”  
“Oh, I just fell,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.  
With those words, Max opens the door in a navy button-up and flip flops, still drying his hands on his shorts. His hair for the past couple of days was fluffy and unkempt, curling on his forehead. Today, it’s tamed with some wax, swooped to the side, and absolutely delightful.

The restaurant is a few blocks from our building. We get a table, a few drinks, and discuss Kevin’s quick return.  
“So, why’d you come back so early?” I ask, still annoyed with prior events. Max, sitting next to Kevin, gives me a smug look that he can’t see.  
“I overestimated how much time I can handle them,” he cackles. “Also, my momma kept showing me photos of her church friends’ single daughters. The mothafuckin’ nerve!” I laugh and swirl my drink.   
My favorite part of these brunch dates is when Kevin’s adorable Caribbean mother calls him while he tells me about his latest hookup (in too much detail), trying to play matchmaker after mass. He always exaggerates his workload to explain how he, the gayest person on this planet, doesn’t have time for a girlfriend.  
“I still have no idea how she hasn’t figured it out yet,” I tell him.  
“One of these days, I’ll probably get fed up and tell her. We’re getting close.”  
“You should’ve just asked how their sons are doing,” Max says. Kevin howls as he takes a satisfying sip of his drink.

Our food comes a bit later and we continue catching up, Kevin and Max telling old stories from college in-between bites as I listen. The more they speak, the more I realize they are the exact same person in different bodies. It’s almost scary; from karaoke nights at a cheap dive bar near campus, to reenacting musicals in their apartment with friends, I’m surprised Kevin’s barely ever mentioned him to me.

Unintentionally, I keep staring at Max. No particular reason, just watching him: the way he eats his fries, talks with his hands, covers his mouth after laughing too hard. I become so fixated that whatever Kevin is babbling about turns inaudible- I just keep looking at the slight stubble poking through his chin that he scratches every so often, the scar on his right elbow when he props it on the table, even how he nods along to every word Kevin says. He’s a completely average guy, but I’m mesmerized by every small detail.

“Would you like some more water?” I’m snapped out of the trance by our waitress holding a metal pitcher in front of me.  
“Oh, um, yes please.” She refills my glass and walks off.  
“I’ll be back. I’m going to the bathroom.” Max stands up and goes away from the table. I catch myself staring again as he walks away until he turns a corner and is out of sight. Then, I’m greeted with a fresh pair of eyes from Kevin. With the coy glare, I think he’s connected the dots.

“What?”  
“I know that look, G,” he replies.  
“Oh, shut up.”  
“Since when were tiny white guys your type?”  
“Since Friday night.” Apparently, I’m ready to spill.  
“I was wondering when you guys met. Y’all were pretty close last night.”  
“We met completely on accident. I tripped on the fire escape steps and he helped clean the scrape, then asked me to stay for dinner.”  
“I thought you ‘just fell.’” He’s using air quotes, taunting me from my previous answer.  
“I didn’t lie.”  
“Y’all were being more than neighborly last night, weren’t you?”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
“I totally cock-blocked you, didn’t I?”  
I’m silent and avoiding eye contact, causing him to go wide-eyed.  
“Oh my GOD.” He slaps the table with every word, way too excited and causing patrons to stare. “I knew it!”  
“Shh!” I’m attempting to contain his emotions, pinning his arms down on the table. When he finally cooperates, I speak softly.  
“We almost kissed Friday night, and I redeemed myself yesterday until you just had to ruin it, bitch!”  
“Well if I would’ve known my friends were fucking I wouldn’t have knocked!”  
“We didn’t think you’d be home until Monday!”  
“True,” he cackles. “I can’t believe you two were ready to hook up that quick. Max typically isn’t into hookups.”   
“I can’t believe you barely talked about him with me!”  
“I didn’t think you’d be interested!”  
“Well, I wasn’t until he started acting all hospitable. He’s so nice.”  
“You’re telling me! If he wasn’t a top that’s half of my size I would’ve married him by now.” The last sentence almost has my jaw in my lap.  
“That man is a top?”  
“You are such a whore.”  
“Don’t change the subject.”  
“I only speak facts, babe,” he winks. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” A sip of his mimosa and Max appears from the corner again, sitting down and returning to his meal.  
“What’d I miss?” he asks. I shake my head.  
“Nothing much.”

——

Evening rolls around and I run upstairs to check on my laundry. When I throw the load in the dryer and come back down, Max is standing in the hallway with his bags, placing his ticket in his jacket pocket.  
“Leaving so soon?” I ask with a smile.  
“Very late, actually. My flight leaves in two hours and I haven’t even called an Uber.”  
“Oh, shit. I shouldn’t keep you then.” I reach in for a hug and he wraps his arms around me softly.  
“Be safe heading back.”  
“I will,” he tells me. “See you in a few weeks.”  
With that, he gives me a cheeky grin and walks quickly down the hallway to the elevators where this mess started. I go back inside, a deep sigh following. What am I doing?

My conversation with Kevin this morning has stuck with me all day. I need more answers. Stepping onto the fire escape with a blunt, I tap on his window until the curtains draw back and he opens it.  
“You rang?”  
“I’ve got some questions.” He laughs and shakes his head.  
“Me too. But keep it quick. Grandpa is getting tired.”

We sit down, feet dangling from the platform when I light the joint and taste it’s sourness. I pass it to Kevin.  
“Before I start, can you promise to be as honest as possible?”  
“Yes, Judge Judy.”  
“Okay, good. You said he normally doesn’t do hookups, right?”  
“Nope. He hasn’t been with someone since sophomore year.” That’s weird.  
“Seriously?”  
“Well, kind of. He had an on-and-off thing with this asshole named Jake until graduation that fucked with his psyche a lot. He’d leave Max every couple of months and come running back like nothing happened. I wanted to kill him, then Max for falling for his bullshit.” Kevin’s getting re-heated just by talking about it, taking multiple hits before passing the blunt back to me. “He cares so much, probably too much.” I nod along.  
“Anyways,” he says, “How much have you seen each other while I’ve been gone?”  
“Probably like ten hours total.”  
“In two days?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Wow. What kind of social butterfly did Max turn into since I left the west coast?”  
“He keeps to himself a lot?”  
“All of the time. That’s why I was so shocked when you guys were hanging out together, let alone doing _whatever_ that was when I knocked.”  
“Calm down, we didn’t get anywhere when you interrupted,” I giggle.  
He sighs. “I don’t know what you did to him, but he seems really interested in you. I asked him about the weekend after brunch, and he was floored about goddamn sushi and _Mamma Mia!_.”  
“Did you consider my incredible charm and wit?” I smirk and nudge his shoulder, causing him to sway and laugh.  
“I’m sure that’s what it was. Listen, as much fun as this is, I’m falling asleep out here.”  
“Fine. One last question.”  
“What is it?”  
“...can I have his number?” I ask bashfully.  
“You mean to tell me that y’all were getting hot and heavy and didn’t even bother to get that on night one?!”  
“It wasn’t the first thought in my mind when I climbed on top of him, bitch!” He rolls his eyes with a smile, takes out his phone, and sends me his contact information.

\----

I didn’t text him. The first man to give me attention for more than three hours to hook up, and I’m blowing it to smithereens because I’m too nervous to make the first move. _Classic._

A few weeks have passed since he left for Seattle again. He’s probably moving in right now as I answer emails and procrastinate by looking at old looks from this year’s Met Gala. A camp aesthetic? My fucking dream. A message appears on my Mac from Kevin.

_Do I have to do everything for this relationship to blossom?_

I’m confused, until my phone starts buzzing. I reach into my pocket and see that it’s Max. _Oops._

“Hello?”  
“Gio?”  
“Hey, Max.”  
“Hi. Uh, Kevin gave me your number.” I chuckle.  
“I figured. How’ve you been?”  
“I’m so sore. Kevin and I have been moving boxes and furniture all day.”  
“Why didn’t Kevin let me know sooner? I would’ve helped out,” I tell him as if I couldn’t text him for a month.  
“Well, that’s actually why I called you. Kevin just left and I still have a lot of unpacking to do. Are you busy?”  
Surprisingly, I actually do have plans. Some coworkers invited me out to drinks tonight because I was in the room as they discussed plans, but it’s not the first time I’ve bailed on them. They definitely won’t miss me.  
“Not at all! Send me the address and I’ll be there soon.”  
“You’re a lifesaver! I’ll text it to you now.”  
“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

He sends me the address and I get dressed to bare the Brooklyn heat. Before leaving, I text Kevin back:

**I’m pulling my weight. Don’t worry ;)**

\----

“How was the drive?” I’m helping him load plates and glass cups into his cabinets while he stands on a chair.  
“Too fucking long,” he says, “It took me five days to get here, but I stayed with my friend Brian when I got to Milwaukee, then Tony in Chicago. Every other place was just some crappy motel and a prayer that I wouldn’t get bed bugs.” I snicker at the last comment.  
“At least you get to sleep in your own bed tonight.”  
“Yeah, finally.”

We finish putting away every bowl, spoon, and rubber spatula he brought and break down the boxes for the trash. His living room is barren besides a bunch of bubble wrap and tape lining the light wood floor and an empty bookcase with hundreds of novels on the floor next to it. It smells like an old bookstore- the sunset bleeds through and highlights every dust particle floating around the room. Max stands by the small island in the kitchen, hands on his hips. He’s glowing, arms and face golden before the sun falls over a building and everything turns gray. Clearly exhausted, he gives me a smile and a look that begs us to return to the mess tomorrow.

“Welcome to New York.” I mirror his smile and pull him into a hug. He sways us back and forth in absolute fervor, dancing in my arms.  
“We need to celebrate. Grab the wine in the fridge.”

As I get the bottle, which is the only thing in his fridge, he greets me with two coffee mugs- the Seattle skyline painted across both.

“The wine glasses must’ve been in a different box,” he says, a giant grin plastered on his face. “My mom made these.”

“Classy,” I smirk.

He follows behind with the bottle opener as I sit against the white wall, legs crossed and scrolling through his laptop’s music library. After uncorking, he pours almost full cups for the both of us, and slides down the wall next to me, moonlight from the window striking his leg as he stretches. To go with some acoustics, I jokingly search-up a Yule log video for mood lighting. He laughs and rolls his eyes watching the crackling embers on his computer screen.

“Dumbass,” he whispers under his breath before raising his mug toward me. I do the same.

“To crushed dreams and expensive rent!”  
“L'chaim!” I reply. We clash our drinks together and sip occasionally. I’m relieved he bought sweet wine this time, watching dusk swallow the sky.

Through fifteen minutes, radio silence. His shirt reflects a light orange from the fake flames, darkness encapsulating the living room. My head rests on the wall, eyes shut and feeling Max bobbing to the music every once in a while, silently pouring more wine into our mugs. No moments on my own fire escape have felt so peaceful, especially when the next song plays:

_If you were falling,_  
Then I would catch you.  
You need a light,  
I’d find a match. 

Max starts quietly humming the chorus, swaying back and forth with his eyes closed. I silently laugh when our arms brush against one another.

_‘Cause I love the way you say good morning,  
And you take me the way I am._

Eventually, his head softly lands on my shoulder as it did so perfectly weeks before. I hide the smile forming on my lips, slowly inching my fingers. Reaching his hand on the floor, they playfully dance on his knuckles before intertwining, giving a gentle squeeze.

I feel his prickly cheek glide across my skin until his lips connect, placing delicate kisses from my shoulder to collar bone. The sensation causes the hairs on my arm to stand, a deep sigh escaping. He continues sprinkling soft pecks along the area, using a finger to move the strap of my tank top and grazing my slicked, bare chest. My hand detaches from his and relocates to the side of his jaw, thumb tracing as he squeezes my thigh. I lean my head back in satisfaction, hungry for any contact, and he wastes no time moving off the wall and attacking my neck with more aggression. The suction tingles as his tongue soothes the spaces he bruises, his hand traveling up my thigh, nearly at my crotch. I can smell the wine in his breath.

“M-Max…” I’m barely making words. He raises a single finger and lightly drags my lips, silencing me. His control may be rousing, but I’m tired of waiting.

Growing impatient, I reach under his thigh and pull him towards me. His leg swings across and straddles my lap- I immediately feel his growing harness as he grips my cheeks. Thousands of fireworks go off in my head as I finally taste his lips on mine. It’s sour and velvety, our noses smash together upon impact, tongues sloppily discovering rhythm. Our music has been drowned by deep exhales and the fabric of our shorts at the slightest friction. I take his bottom lip between my teeth, eliciting a moan when our mouths reconnect. My arms pull him closer to make sure this isn’t some painful dream, teeth clashing and steadily rolling my hips. I reach under his shirt, outlining every back muscle during the passionate exchange. Without missing a beat, he starts lifting the white fabric, revealing his lightly-toned torso and prominent v-line. He smirks as my eyes grow wide, unsure of what I was expecting, and finds my lips again before tossing it near some boxes. I shut the laptop and wrap my arms around him once more.

After several minutes, we relax and catch our breath, still firmly attached with his arms around my neck and mine on his waist. He pulls me close, fingers lost in my hair with my head at his chest. I kiss his sternum as he controls his breathing.

“Took us long enough,” he smirks. I smile and place another kiss on his salty skin.

Looking up from his embrace, his face is shining, beads of sweat forming at his hairline with his mouth agape, forming a light smile. Standing slowly, he extends his hand, head motioning to the bedroom. I graciously accept as he helps me up and leads to the door- a quick admiration for his shoulder muscles and notice of a weird tattoo I’ll ask about later. We have more important plans.

The door shuts behind us and I can only see silhouettes, nightfall and car headlights pouring through the two windows near his bed. Barely in the room, I ditch my tank top on the floor and grab his waist from behind. His neck cranes back as I bruise the porcelain skin, fingers tracing up and down my arm. I feel his chin on my cheek and I lift my head, tenderly greeted by his lips. My hands drop to his hips, fingertips progressing to his stark erection as I stroke it’s length. Eagerly, he takes my wrist and moves it to his waistband, to which I duck underneath and grab his cock, thumbing the head and spreading the precum before pleasuring him.

“Oh my God,” he severs from my lips, groaning and grasping my neck hairs hard as I revert focus to his shoulder.  
“I've been dreaming about you,” I whisper, my hand moves up and down excruciatingly slow, teasing something that’s been built-up for a month.  
“Th-that makes two of us.” He stutters, breathing deeply as I continue to stroke his shaft.  
“Show me,” I simper and bite his earlobe, my free hand rubbing his chest. With those words, his hands reach behind to grab my shorts at the waist and yank them to my thighs. He stops my action by turning around to face me, pulling the minimal clothing off of my body, exposing my erection. Kneeling before me, he places a chaste kiss on my inner thigh, dangerously close, before pushing me toward the bed.

My legs hit the sides of the mattress and cause me to sit close to the edge. Max travels down from my collar bones to my navel, lips and tongue blessing my torso as my fingers comb his hair when he falls back to his knees. He licks from base to head, swirling his tongue before taking me in his mouth. I’m brought to my elbows in luxury, relishing in his skill. His hand works in tandem on my shaft while the other grips my thigh.   
_Holy shit._  
It doesn’t take long before I’m encapsulated- euphoric moans escape, head thrown back when he takes the entire length to the back of his throat and gags. My body starts to twitch, knowing I’m getting close. Sitting up, I place my hand at his cheek, slowing his pace to a halt, chocolate eyes dark with passion, skin waxen and pale blue in the moonlight, almost angelic. 

I meet him halfway with my lips, salty and wet, finally pulling his shorts and underwear down. He steps out of his clothes and I scoot farther onto the bed when he climbs over me again and sloppily kisses my mouth. We roll around the pale cotton sheets, savoring the embrace and caressing each other’s bodies. Laying on our sides, his hand travels down my back and hastily grabs my ass, slapping it when he makes contact. My breath hitches- it burns in the best way possible. His stomach is warm against mine, legs intertwined with sensual murmurs filling the air.

“Fuck me,” I mumble against his lips. “Please.” Our kissing stops and he meets my eyes.  
“Are you sure?”  
I nod, giving him a quick peck, a grin forming on his lips.

He quickly slides off the bed while I move closer to the pillows. Rummaging through a bag close to the bathroom, he pulls out a condom and some lube and walks over to me, body shining from perspiration. A loud snap and the cap pops open, the sticky liquid coating his fingers before he sits in between my legs. I'm already balling the sheets in my hands, licking my lips and anticipating to crumble at his touch. His cold middle finger teases my entrance. It’s tingling, almost painful with build-up. There’s a sharp sting when he enters one finger, pumping slowly with his other hand tracing my abdomen. I sigh in relief at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut. He introduces a second finger, leaning down and peppering my hips with kisses, arm moving faster and faster within me. My chest jolts at his fingers dancing atop my rib cage and reaching my jaw, his thumb outlining my bottom lip. To his surprise, I take it in my mouth and begin to suck lightly

“Fuck,” is all that he breathes as I moan onto his finger. Eventually, he slows his pace before removing his fingers, eliciting a whimper from me and a smirk from him. I hear the crinkling of the condom wrapper as he tears it open and slides it over his cock. Propped on his arms at my sides, he leaves me with a glossy stare before settling back on his knees and grabbing my thighs. 

The head grazes over my entrance until he thrusts idly about halfway. My knuckles turn white, clutching the bedding and hissing as I get used to the pressure. In a couple of movements, we groan in unison when he’s fully inside me. It feels like a bolt of electricity shooting through my veins at the sensation. He quickens the pace with each advance, holding my waist tightly.

I can barely see his face, making out small details: a single hair is curled on his forehead, brows furrowed close together, an expression of pure zeal in his eyes and mouth. My legs wrap around his hips and he balances over me, arms by my ears and chests becoming parallel, sweat exchanging when they graze each other.

I’m becoming overstimulated, grunting with every one of his thrusts, face turning red. I start shivering, getting close and panting. Stroking myself quickly, my back arches as beads of white coat his chest and drip onto my stomach. I collapse underneath him. Max’s hands find mine among the chaos and bring them over my head, interlocking fingers as he groans into my shoulder. 

In a short moment, his body begins to contort. I feel the warmth inside me when he exhales loudly and finishes, arms wobbling and fighting to keep him up.

——

We lay in our sweat. The only sounds I can hear are our heartbeats and Max’s deep breaths next to me. I’m on my side with my arm draped over his chest while he scratches the back of my neck. He kisses my forehead softly before pushing himself off the bed and walking to the bathroom. The light he turns on blinds me when I roll over. Shielding my eyes, he comes back with a damp washcloth, wiping himself before handing it to me and climbing back into bed, examining the contusions blanketing my throat and chest. I toss the towel on the floor.

“You’re incredible.” Max’s first words to me after everything are as soft as every kiss he leaves on my hand and knuckles. If I weren’t drained, I’d pin him back down and show my appreciation, but instead I turn back to my side and lazily embrace him as we lock lips for the millionth time. I don’t want this night to end, but my head aches for sleep and he breaks to yawn. His head drops to the pillow, arm still around me with the other on his rib cage. My body curls into his, falling fast asleep.

_He cares too much, but so do I, and I think we’ll be okay with that._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me @dr-dill on tumblr xx


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